No Horse Wanted

by Melange Books, LLC

  I knew it was petty, but I didn’t care since her friends were already sniveling. Plus, I was mad. My family might call me Princess Robin, but nobody else better. “You’ve got a problem,” I said.

  “Really?” She swung back to face me, ready to call me out for being prejudiced. “What?”

  “I run at least six miles a day, every day.” I smiled sweetly. “Since Gwen and Porter are spending the night at my house, we’ll do it tomorrow morning before we go horseback riding. Want to come?”

  “No,” Kanisha said. “Monday’s soon enough.”

  Olivia shot her a glare that promised retribution later. “When and where?”

  Oh, damn. Now, I was stuck with her. Even if I didn’t like the way she played the ‘race card,’ I should have expected her to step up since she had no give-up in her. I tore a sheet of paper out of my binder and wrote down my address and directions. “We have to be at the barn in time for Vicky’s internship at eight, so we’re running at six.”

  “In the morning?” Cedar whined. “That sucks.”

  “Then, don’t come,” I said.

  “We’ll be there,” Olivia told me and walked away, followed by the other two girls.

  The final bell rang and Mr. Sutcliffe began his countdown at the door. “You’ve got ten seconds, nine, eight, five...”

  “Hey, you skipped some numbers,” Steve griped as he hustled through the door, followed by Vicky and Dani. “You should start over.”

  “Not happening.” Mr. Sutcliffe shut the door and headed toward his desk to take attendance on the computer. “Entry task is on the board. Let’s get started, folks. We have a short period and a lot to cover today.”

  Vicky plopped down in her chair next to me. “Congratulations on P.R.ing yesterday. That’s terrific.”

  “Yeah, right until we got home and Twaz colicked again. Mom’s going to put a new bale of hay in his manger before she leaves next Thursday for the meet.” I caught the glance from Mr. Sutcliffe and hastily pulled out the composition book he insisted we use as a math journal. Then, I worked the three problems, finding solutions for each one.

  History followed Algebra. We had our usual Friday quiz. This one was all about early explorers in America. I had to trust my memory, and it was shot since I’d barely had four hours sleep the night before. My coffee was rapidly wearing off when the bell rang and we headed for English. I so didn’t look forward to listening to one of Mrs. Weaver’s lectures.

  And of course, today she would decide to talk about sentence structure and how to diagram each part—like I cared what she wanted done with verbs, adverbs, adjectives, nouns, and objects. I had a few suggestions. I felt my head droop and jerked myself awake.

  “Robin Gibson, would you repeat the assignment for the class?” Mrs. Weaver asked, coming close to my desk.

  I squirmed and wished the chair would swallow me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t understand it.”

  Mrs. Weaver stared down her nose at me as if I were a worm. “Would someone like to rescue Robin?”

  Dani was the first to speak up. “We’re supposed to write a paragraph of ten sentences, then diagram those sentences. It’s due in twenty minutes, before the bell rings.” She flashed a quick smile at me. “You should write about saving your horse last night. Vet books always go on for pages about colic. It’d be easy to come up with ten lines.”

  I so owed her. I nodded and looked at the teacher. “Yeah. I could do what she said.”

  “All right.” Mrs. Weaver turned and headed back for her desk. “You’d better get started. You only have eighteen minutes until the bell.”

  And she was such a clock-watcher, nobody figured she’d give us an extra minute, much less accept any late work. I opened my binder to a fresh sheet of paper, pulled out a pen and wrote. My horse almost died again last night...

  Chapter Seventeen

  Friday, September 20th, 10:15 a.m.

  I had first lunch, and wow, was I ready even if there wasn’t any caffeine around. I got a sub sandwich, chips, an apple and a bottle of water. I spotted Harry and headed over to his table. I sat down across from him, struggling not to yawn. “Hey. How are you?”

  “I’m good.” He grinned at me. “Heard you guys won yesterday. Congrats.”

  “Thanks.” Inside me the butterflies did a little dance. He knew I was a runner and had paid attention to what the team was doing. All right!

  I fought to control another yawn as I opened my chips. “Yeah, but things got exciting when we found a nest of yellow jackets the hard way.”

  “Tell me about it.” He reached down in his backpack and pulled out a bottle of Mountain Dew, opening it for me and handing it over. “Here have some caffeine first. I didn’t think running wore you out that much.”

  “It doesn’t.” I gratefully took a swallow. “I was up all night with my horse. He colicked again.”

  He looked interested, so between bites of my sandwich and sips of the soda, I brought him up to speed on Twaziem’s misadventures, the meet and the cop who planned to visit every week. Harry told me all about how the football team was going to win tonight and how my older brother was the best wide receiver around. That wasn’t all bad. If Harry actually asked me out, Jack wouldn’t freak, his usual response when one of his friends eyed me.

  Halfway through lunch, Vicky arrived. She tossed back her hair and gave me a nasty look. “I knew you’d be here telling Harry about your ugly horse.”

  “What?” I almost choked on a chip. “Vick, what’s wrong?”

  “You think you’re so hot. You said you were going to bring home the worst horse you could find, and you certainly did. Now, you’re acting like some kind of hero.”

  She stormed away before I could say anything. For a moment, I wanted to cry. What was the matter with my best friend? How could she betray me in front of Harry? This was awful. Half the people in the lunchroom were staring at me. The rest were looking after her. A cheerleader doing drama was always interesting and fun to watch.

  “I’ve got to go find out what her issue is, Harry.” I stood and gathered up the remains of my lunch. “And yes, I was mad when my family insisted on four hooves on the horse, not four wheels, so I pitched a fit. I’m not perfect.”

  “I never thought you were.” He leaned back in his chair. “Is it okay if I say that I like you better as a human being, or will you rip me a new one?”

  I’d have to think about that. Meanwhile, I tossed my garbage and went Vicky hunting. I didn’t actually expect her to answer her cell because she was undoubtedly saving her minutes. I was still surprised when she didn’t pick up. She was nowhere to be found, not in the bathrooms or the counseling office or the locker room, or the gym decorating for the pep assembly or even with Mrs. Weaver. I tried calling again right before the warning bell rang.

  On the way to Science, I texted her. Then, I put away my phone. I wouldn’t push my luck with Mr. Sutcliffe. He might dress down in jeans and a Washington State University sweatshirt on Fridays, but I didn’t want to lose my cell when he followed the rule about no electronic devices in his classroom. I’d catch up with Vicky at the assembly.

  Only I couldn’t. She wasn’t there. Pity and concern swamped me. She would be in so much trouble with her coach. The cheerleaders always organized and put on the pep assemblies, so for her to miss one when she wasn’t dead jeopardized Vicky’s standing with the Varsity squad. We were dismissed to go to the buses at the end of the assembly, but I didn’t. I went to Ms. Walker instead. I had to wait until she arranged for the cheerleaders to clean up the gym.

  “Ms. Walker, do you know where Vicky is? I’m really worried about her.”

  “Me, too.” Ms. Walker patted my shoulder. “All I can tell you is that I got a message from the office saying she had to leave early. She isn’t sick, is she?”

  I shook my head. “No, but one of her parents probably pulled her out to babysit the kids.”

  “That’s what I thought, too.” Ms. Walker kept her hand on my shoulder
and urged me toward the door. “Robin, she has to be at the game tonight or I’ll have to suspend her from Varsity for a week. The squad has been great about covering for her, but our routines are set up for nine cheerleaders and without her—”

  “I’ll get her there if I have to babysit for her,” I said.

  Outside, I grabbed my phone and checked messages. There actually was one from Vicky begging off from the sleepover. She’d catch up with me later. Well, this was total crap, I thought. What was she going to do about her internship? Cancel on that too? Then, she’d be in trouble for bailing on Rocky, fail three classes and be stuck in Podunk, USA, forever.

  I called Dad’s office and told the secretary to tell him I was taking the bus. I had things to do at home before my sleepover and Jack’s football game. Meantime, I called Vicky. Of course, she still didn’t answer. She was into avoidance or else the kids had her jumping through hoops. Well, two could play this game. I left her a message that I’d be there to babysit the brats at five. Jack would drop me off and take her to the school, so she’d better have her cheer act together. Oh, and the next time she fouled things up with Harry, I’d pull each and every strand of golden brown hair out of her head.

  So, I’m not perfect. Sue me!

  On the way home, I contacted Porter and Gwen. I brought them up to speed on the Vicky drama. They promised to show up at my house and do chores with my mom. Like Porter said, even with all our critters, we didn’t have anything compared to Shamrock Stables. Last summer, there were forty stalls to clean every day. Porter told me they’d go to the game with my folks, and we’d meet up there.

  Then, we could get my dad to stop for pizza and junk food on the way home. And I didn’t know how I’d manage to get Vicky to the sleepover, but I was majorly sick of her parents dumping on her. Hello, she had brothers and sisters, not her own kids, not yet. If the crap-fest didn’t stop soon, I’d bet Vicky would never get married, much less have a family of her own. If I had to contend with everything she did, I sure wouldn’t.

  * * * *

  Friday, September 20th, 10:25 p.m.

  I was finishing my algebra homework when I heard a key in the front door. I closed my math book and got up from the kitchen table to walk into the hall. I spotted Vicky’s mom sliding out of her coat. “Hi.”

  She stopped and stared. “Robin, what are you doing here?”

  “Babysitting,” I said. “Vicky can’t get kicked off cheer, Mrs. Miller.”

  Utter silence while she opened and closed her mouth like a fish. I folded my arms and waited. Her mom looked like an old-age version of my best friend, but I’d never catch Vicky in a green tuxedo style shirt and black slacks and shoes. Brown-haired, brown-eyed, five-feet-six, her mother looked old and tired under the cosmetics she wore.

  “I got called in to work,” Mrs. Miller said, “and I needed Vicky to take care of the kids today until her dad got here.”

  “Well, guess what? He didn’t show up. And Vick missed the assembly at school today so her cheer coach was majorly pissed. If she’d missed the game too, Ms. Walker would have suspended her.” I wasn’t about to cut this woman any slack. She dumped all the crap on my friend, and Vicky barely had a life anymore.

  “So, you came to look after the kids so Vicky could go.” Mrs. Miller pasted on a smile and reached into her purse. “That was really nice of you. What do I owe you?”

  “Nothing,” I said. “Vick owes me. You don’t. I did all of Vick’s other chores, too. I made dinner, cleaned the kitchen, did four loads of laundry, and put it away. The kids went to bed at eight.”

  “Their bedtime is ten on Friday nights,” Mrs. Miller said.

  “I know. They told me, but when they started the pushing, shoving, hitting, and kicking the crap out of each other over the TV remote, I did baths and put them to bed,” I said. “Next Friday, it’ll be seven. Vick’s your maid or slave. I’m not.”

  More gulping. If she was a fish, I’d have thrown water on her so she didn’t die. I dug out my phone to text Jack. We’d already agreed that he was to leave Vicky at our house if he had to tie her up and chuck her in my closet. “Your dinner’s in the microwave. You just need to nuke it.”

  “Where is Vicky? The game must be over by now.”

  “At my house,” I said. “You can pick her up at Shamrock Stable tomorrow after she does her internship hours.”

  “She can’t go to the barn. She was supposed to call and cancel that. Who will take care of the kids?”

  I tapped my foot. This woman was seriously annoying me. I didn’t care what my parents said about being diplomatic. With some people, it just didn’t work. “Really? Do you plan to have Vick fail all three core classes when she screws up her Sophomore Project for you and her father?”

  No answer. Had I expected one?

  I went back to the little dining area off the kitchen and gathered up my books and backpack. I was going to be a lot nicer to my mother even if she never let me have my Mustang. It didn’t matter how many kids she had. If there were six of them instead of three, my mom wouldn’t turn one into Cinderella to look after the others.

  Mrs. Miller came into the kitchen. “This is hard for all of us, Robin. You may not believe me, but I’m not trying to ruin my daughter’s life.”

  I zipped up my backpack. “I’m not the one you need to tell that. You should tell Vick in front of your other kids how much you appreciate her help. Unless your ex shows up next Friday for visitation, I’ll be here to babysit. Oh, and I wouldn’t make a habit of pulling Vick out of school, unless you want the counselors, the teachers and the principals on you about her potential for being a dropout instead of a graduate.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Saturday, September 21st, 12:30 p.m.

  I leaned back in the passenger seat of Jack’s truck while he drove home from Shamrock Stable. If we lived further away from the barn, I could have a nice snooze.

  He glanced sideways at me while he waited for the light to change at the intersection on Highway 9. “Babysitting last night so Vicky made the game was above and beyond. She couldn’t believe you would step up like that.”

  “Yeah, I’m great.” I yawned. “But if she messes with me again when I’m chasing Harry, all bets are off. You’ll have a bald girlfriend.”

  Jack was still laughing when we pulled into our drive. “Go catch some zs, little sister. I’ll feed horse lunch, and then I’ll help you give Twaziem a bath when he finishes eating.”

  I groaned. That had been my lesson today with Prince Charming. Sierra taught me the ins and outs of bathing a horse from wetting them down to scrubbing every inch, rinsing off all the soap, and finally drying them so they wouldn’t catch cold. Plus, I’d had to shampoo Charming’s mane and tail, condition them, and then comb out every hair. And now, I was supposed to apply everything I learned to Twaziem. It sounded like so much fun. Not!

  I walked past my parents’ cars and wondered why both of them were around on a Saturday. Didn’t they have some riding activity to do? Usually, Mom took Singer out to work on the Centennial Trail and condition her for upcoming endurance rides. Dad would be off with his roping buddies.

  I went in the kitchen door. Salt and Pepper, the black and white kittens, raced to meet me. They wound through my legs. I bent and scooped up the pair of small flea-lions as Dad called them. “Shall we find some meat for you?”

  Salt mewed at me and Pepper tried to bat at my face with a paw. Mom glanced at me from the counter where she made roast beef sandwiches. “If I told you they were lying and I already fed them, would you believe me?”

  “No.” I laughed, cuddling the little monsters close. “I can tell starving kitties when I see them.”

  Dad came in from his office, rubbing his ear. “Hi, sweetie. I just heard all about you from Vicky’s mom.”

  “Yeah,” I muttered. When he frowned at me, I mustered up a smile as I put the kittens on the floor. “Did you tell her what it would cost for a housekeeper-cum-caregiver for her brats fo
r five hours, and that the bill is forthcoming?”

  Mom winked at me when Dad chuckled. Then he said, “No, but I did tell her that I was very proud of you for helping Vicky stay in school, and I wished you’d clean the cat box the way you cleaned her house.”

  Mom high-fived me. “When she sniveled at me and said she didn’t like the way you did laundry, I told her that I taught you how and asked if there was a better way to fold T-shirts and diapers.”

  “Anything else?” I opened the cupboard to pull out a can of cat meat. “Did she gripe about me putting the kids to bed when the four of them got into a ‘knock-down, drag-out’ fight over the remote?”

  “Yes,” Mom said, “and I said that was the way Felicia handled it with you and Jack. I thought it was a much more effective method than time-outs and spankings when the parents got home.”

  “It sucked being sent to bed at seven.” I spooned meat into the double-sided dish and got out of the way before the kitten attack. “But, we never hassled Felicia again when she took care of us. And I don’t remember her ever having to clean the entire house, make dinner, do a day’s worth of dishes, run mountains of dirty clothes through the washer, and supervise bath time. No wonder Vick looks exhausted most of the time.”

  “Well, her father is coming for the kids next Friday immediately after school.” Dad filled four glasses with milk, then placed the pitcher in the fridge. “And I told her mother that she was absolutely right about you going to the game next week with your friends, so your mom and I will take care of the little kids if he doesn’t show up. I’ll pick them up at day care when I get off work.”

  “You are a very evil daddy and I love you lots.” I dropped the empty cat food can in the recycle bin, then hugged Mom. “Are you okay with it?”

  “Yes,” Mom said. “You’ll have to cheer extra loud to make up for us missing Jack’s game, but I’m not taking Vicky’s brothers and sisters to high school football. We’ll talk to him about all of this at lunch.”